


Perfection

by Elivra



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, I'm Sorry, Strong Language, This is the most horrible thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elivra/pseuds/Elivra
Summary: This fic is just one chapter in my SnK anthology on ff.net. It is my take on what could have happened to Nanaba to make her react the way she did in her final moments on the anime. So you'll know not to expect anything good ahead...





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I did it. I wrote the worst thing I have ever written. I won't say more 'cos you'll read ahead anyway, but I have to say:
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: strong language, violence, child abuse, child sexual abuse
> 
> Yeah. It's that bad. *shudders* This is part of a collection of character stories on ff.net, but I really wanted to post this specific one to more people so here it is, on Ao3!
> 
> More at the end of the story. Enjoy the long read!

 

* * *

When she finally reached the door, her hands were perfectly still.

Control. Poise. _Perfection_.

She knocked smartly, and was immediately answered by a cheerful, loud "Come in!"

She opened the door and walked into the unexpectedly large office. There was clutter everywhere: books and pages and little brass instruments, blades and capes and the odd shotgun or two. The walls were haphazardly plastered with maps and illustrations. She was especially interested in several large posters depicting the (known) anatomy of Titans.

At the end of the room, in front of a surprisingly uncluttered desk, sat her new boss.

"Welcome." Hange Zoë said with her usual grin plastered on her face. "What do you think of my office?"

The question surprised her. "It's… nice."

"Hmm. You're very polite. We might have to work on that."

She stared at the Squad Leader.

Hange laughed. "Come, now, Nanaba, I was only joking. You'll have to get used to jokes, you know. Have a seat. You don't mind me calling you Nanaba, do you?"

"N-no." She took the proffered chair.

"Excellent. I'm sure we'll get along splendidly."

Nanaba only inclined her head slightly. She doubted it would be as easy as the Squad Leader proclaimed. Rumour had it Hange Zoë was eccentric to the point of madness. But then, rumour also had it that she was one of the three best soldiers in the Survey Corps.

Hange leaned back in her chair, her eyes still focused on Nanaba. "Now, this meeting is simply a formality. It's not even mandatory. But I think you're an exception, so I scheduled it anyway."

Nanaba stirred. "May I ask why I'm an… exception?"

"Because I have more than the usual questions. Some of which I can't address in a casual conversation over dinner."

There it was. She knew it was coming.

"I see you haven't provided a family name in your application." Hange shuffled some papers on her desk. "While you're not the first to do so, it is uncommon anyway. The only other person in the Survey Corps right now with no family name is a renegade from the Underground City in Sina."

"Does it matter?"

Hange did not seem fazed by her curt question. " Like I said. The only other person is a reformed criminal-"

Nanaba had heard of this man. "I'm no criminal. I graduated fair and square from the Training Corps."

"I'm aware. Top of your class, in fact." Hange's grin was almost feral. "I had to fight to get you in my squad. Erwin always ends up with the good ones."

She let herself frown. "I don't understand. If you doubt me, why did you want me in your squad so badly?"

"Oh, I don't doubt you, not really." Hange paused, as though she were considering how to best explain her motives. "I've heard rumours that you belong, in fact, to a very old noble family. The Hol-"

"Yes. I do," Nanaba said swiftly. There was no point denying it.

Hange raised her eyebrows. "Word is there are no heirs left in that family. Their bloodline will die."

Nanaba curled her fingers into unobtrusive fists. "That's true." Understanding flashed upon her at that moment. "Oh. You think… you think I'll quit the army. Go back to secure my bloodline's future."

Hange did not deny it. "Your records from the Training Corps are extremely promising. I'll be frank with you -I have plans for your career in the Survey Corps. You have potential to grow well, barring dying on the expeditions, of course." She said that last statement matter-of-factly. "But all that is based on your skills. You most certainly have the skills. Do you have the ambition?"

Nanaba looked at the carpeted floor.

" _I have plans for you."_

* * *

_She was six years old, standing outside large, gloomy doors, her knees shaking. When she was finally given leave to enter, the doors opened with ominous bangs and creaks. Shivering, she entered the large, cold stone hall. At the far end of an obscenely large and ornate wooden table sat a man. He was clearly well-built, and had silver-blond hair, just like her, tied into a loose, silky ponytail. He was leaning back indolently, reading a parchment of some sort. He didn't look at her until she came to stand right in front of him._

" _Papa?"_

 _He rolled up the parchment and looked at her_. _She was suddenly reminded of people in the marketplace, evaluating and judging the best, ripest fruits to buy._

_She waited patiently for him to speak. What would be his first words to her?_

" _Who are you?"_

_Tears sprang in her eyes. "Pap-?"_

_WHAM._

_Before she even saw it coming, the rolled-up parchment was slammed into her head, wooden end first. Pain erupted in her skull, so sharp that she was stunned into silence._

" _Who are you?!" His voice thundered through the haze of pain. And then she remembered how anxiously her nanny had taught her basic etiquette, how she had insisted on drilling the proper social convention to greet a Lord of her father's standing. In the excitement of the moment, she had forgotten completely._

_Knees shaking so hard she wobbled on the spot, she spread out her flowing skirt with her little hands and curtsied deep, her trembling knees nearly sweeping the floor and her head pounding as she bowed. "Your Grace," she stammered, her cheeks wet with tears. "I am your daughter, the Lady Nanaba."_

_Her father flung the parchment away, reached down, and jerked her chin up, his fingers smooth and cold. "You need to do better," he spat and pushed her away so hard she nearly fell. But she was a fast learner, she knew falling gracelessly was an absolute no-no. "Unfortunately, your mother saw fit to give me you as my successor and I have no other choice. I have plans for you, daughter, and you'd better be perfectly ready for them."_

_And because she was a fast learner, she knew what she had to say. "Yes, Your Grace."_

* * *

Nanaba frowned at the bespectacled woman in front of her. "You don't have to worry on that account. I'm not going back."

Hange tilted her head curiously. "Even if your father died?"

"I'm not going back." She repeated calmly. "As for your… plans. I'm not sure I'm the right person for them. I'm not very ambitious when it comes to power and position."

"Neither am I," Hange grinned, "yet, here I am, at the highest position possible in the Corps, next to Commander."

Nanaba stared at the woman. Hange's intellect seemed to run in layers and layers of wit and cunning. She felt her respect for the Squad Leader go up several notches.

"Well, technically Erwin's Second-in-Command, but he's a Squad Leader like me, you know. Anyhow. No power, no politics for you, huh."

"No. No politics."

* * *

_She was nine years old._

" _See you tomorrow, Nanaba!" Ellen, her only friend in the world, waved at her and skipped over to where her butler waited with the carriage. Nanaba watched them go, then turned around and headed towards the river. As always, she garnered stares as she walked down the street. Her sleek white-blond hair fell in a shimmering curtain down her back, all the way to her waist. She was wearing a simple velvet frock -old and worn, but not obviously so. To outward appearances, she was still a rich noble._

_When she reached home, she went straight upstairs to put away her books. She changed into a chintz day dress that hugged her girlish figure and ran downstairs for dance class. Miss Gregory was not a patient woman, and worse, she was a tattle-tale. She moved through the motions dully, her mind on her History and Politics class from earlier that day. There was a challenging assignment due the next day and she couldn't wait to take a crack at it._

" _Lady Nanaba!" Miss Gregory was shrill, annoyingly so. "Spin to your left, not your right-"_

_After dance lessons came piano lessons. She had a beautiful voice, courtesy of her mother, and had a magnificent range in pitch, managing both low and high notes with ease. Her problem was the actual piano playing, which gave Miss Gregory much grief, since singing was only secondary and playing the piano was the main skill to attain._

_She somehow managed to sit through piano lessons, then ran off in the direction of her room almost as soon as they were over. She ignored Miss Gregory's outraged shouts that she had not 'taken leave of polite society as etiquette demanded'. Who cares, she thought to herself savagely._

_That night, she found out._

_She was nodding off in the desk chair that was too large for a child, finally having finished the History report for school, when her door swung open and a tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the dark threshold._

_Reflexively she tumbled out of the large chair and swept into a now-familiar curtsey. "Your Grace," she murmured._

_The Duke strode in, his shiny leather boots making the wooden floorboards groan with his heavy, imperious tread. He didn't say a word and she didn't dare rise up from her bow._

" _What do I hear," he finally said, his smooth aristocratic voice echoing in her cavernous room, "about you slacking in your lessons?"_

_Her head shot up. "I'm not! I -I swear, I'm doing all my homework, and studying as much as I can, Your Grace. I was doing a Politics assignment, look!"_

_Her father glanced at the table where sheets of her precise writing resided. He took one sheet and began to read. She waited, sweat dropping down the back of her neck, knees still bent in a bow._

" _So you think," the Duke said after a long minute of silence, "that the Inocencio family lost its standing and its power because it was too greedy and corrupt?"_

" _It was what we were taught," she whispered._

" _Stand up, already. Stop grovelling." She rose to her feet as smoothly as she could, but her knees were knocking together again. "You were saying?"_

_She was an Heiress of the Old Order. She must not mumble. She must not dither. She must speak in a clear, but pleasant tone, never shrill. She must be perfect._

" _Our history teacher taught us this."_

" _Your history teacher." The Duke fingered his belt, and she saw, with a thrill of terror, that it was not empty. "Tell me,_ _child_ _, what were the Inocencios to us?"_

_She knew the answer. "Your Grace's grandmother's paternal aunt, the Lady Clara, married Ulric Inocencio in 769."_

" _What was that?"_

_Her knees were knocking so hard they hurt now. "I -in…" Oh no. "In 759."_

" _And what does that make the Inocencios to you?"_

_She searched wildly for an answer. "Family," she whispered, her voice no longer clear as a bell._

" _Yes. Family." Relief at guessing the right answer only lasted a couple seconds. He was clutching her report too hard, the papers were crumpling in his tight grasp. "And you think some lowlife history teacher bred in the filth would have a better notion of the Inocencios than their own family?"_

" _N -no."_

" _And do you think this streetside scum of a teacher deserves more of your time and efforts than Miss Gregory, who does not come cheap?"_

_She bowed her head and willed herself not to cry. "No, Your Grace."_

" _Good. Do you know what you did wrong?"_

_Her thudding heart sank to her stomach. "I do."_

_The Duke unhooked something from his belt. "Then get the papers."_

_She wanted to scream, to beg, to protest and plead, but she'd had years of practice by then. She knew it was no use. Mechanically, she pulled out a sheaf of old newspapers that she kept neatly stored under her adult-sized desk. It would not do to stain the expensive carpet, after all. She spread the newspapers out evenly just in front of her bedpost, so she could hold on to it. The dark wood had been permanently marred by the shape of her nails digging into it._

_Then, willing herself not to shiver, because she must not, she stood on the newspaper mat, untied her nightrobe and turned around, baring her backside completely to her father. She leaned her forehead on the bedpost, her knees still shivering. She tried to tell herself that it would be better later as she could use the soiled papers for the fire. But of course, that was_ _later._

_She heard the leather snick as it uncoiled. She closed her eyes and bit her lip._

_Sometimes the Duke talked, sometimes he screamed. Other times he was dead silent, like now. There was nothing more to say. She had been wrong. She had to be punished, so she would know better next time._

_The whip came slashing down onto her bare skin. She tried not to scream, but gave in after the eighth lash, a new record._

_When he was gone, her voice hoarse from screeching from the pain, and she burned the bloodstained newspapers and her torn-up report in the fireplace, she told herself politics was something she would never bother herself with. Ever again._

* * *

"Well, you don't have to worry about it. The Survey Corps isn't very bureaucratic, you know. No time for it, ha-ha! Too busy trying not to get eaten, you see."

"I can imagine," Nanaba said drily.

Hange leaned forward. "Can I ask you something?"

She shrugged. "You said you had questions."

"Did you have any combat training other than in the Training Corps? It's not mere curiosity," Hange added hastily, realising perhaps that she sounded nosy, "I feel knowing your capabilities better would allow me to properly assign tasks to you."

Nanaba stared at her.

* * *

_She was eleven years old._

_She was crossing the school courtyard in the mid-afternoon heat, shading her face with her books._

_She had nearly reached the lone willow tree where she usually lunched, when she heard it._

" _Dumpling! Dumpling!" She turned around, and noticed a group of three older boys huddled around a short, stout girl. She looked younger than her._

" _Hey fat fairy!" One of the boys screeched. "How are your button toes still holding you up, huh?"_

" _Are you heading to the swings, fatso? Haven't you broken enough?"_

" _Why don't you tell your rich Daddy to buy you a stone desk of your own? You've gone 'n bent all the wooden ones anyway!"_

_She was next to them before she knew it. "Leave her alone, please." Always polite, always a lady. The girl looked at her with tear-filled doe eyes._

_The boys turned around and seemed to recognise her. "Well, well, if it isn't Icebitch. Feels good, does it, to order people about? I hear you've got a broomstick up your ass from all the slave work you do in your draughty house."_

" _Did your Father buy you a fire yet? Or do you still burn your mother's silks to warm yourself?"_

 _More along the same lines. She curled her hands into fists. Poise. Perfection. She chanted in her head. Poise. Perfection. Poise._ _Perfection._

" _Please leave us alone."_

" _Or what, Lady Snow-slut?"_

_She didn't know what to do. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Ellen hurry away, as she usually did these days. "We'll leave you alone. You can go do as… as boys do." Slowly, she reached behind her for the girl's hand. No sudden moves._

_But it didn't work. One of the boys stepped forward. "Well, then, Icebitch, you know what boys do? Take down anyone that stands in their way."_

_That actually made so little sense that she opened her mouth to propose a counter-argument. She never got to voice it._

_The boy's fist connected with her jaw and she was on the ground in a dusty heap. Panic started ringing in her head._

_Not the face, not the face, you_ _never_ _touch the face or people will see._

 _People will_ _see._

_The boys had already shoved the girl down. Without thinking, she stumbled up and hurtled at them. "No!"_

_Her momentum knocked over one boy and shoved the next hard enough for the girl to slip through his grasp and escape. The third boy jerked her away from his friends. "What do you think you're doing, you little slave? I'm gonna make you squeal like a pig, just you watch!"_

_She tried to run, but he was too fast for her. He caught her flowing sleeves and yanked her back, sending her tumbling down onto the ground._

_And then, they began to unleash their rage on her._

_They rained punches all over her as she tried to cover her face with her elbows, but to no avail. Punch upon punch landed on her face, but she made no sound._

_I will not cry. I will_ _not_ _cry._

_But then one of the boys kicked her in the side: she let out a scream so loud and feral, everyone in the school grounds froze. The boys stared down at her in shock. "What the fuck-?"_

_It was loud enough to alert some teachers in the school building, who came running to investigate. One look was enough, and the boys were hauled into the school, awaiting their parents for their punishment._

_Meanwhile, the school physical activities teacher carried her gently to the infirmary, where he patched up her many wounds. She, however, was still in shock herself. Tears kept rolling unbidden down her bruised and swollen cheeks._

_The face, the face, the face._

_Presently, the teacher looked at her. "Now we know why you screamed. Your ribs are fractured."_

" _Oh."_

" _Oh? It must have hurt badly when your ribs broke."_

" _It did."_

" _Do you remember your ribs breaking?"_

_Silence._

" _Did those boys break your ribs?"_

_Pause. "I suppose."_

_The teacher kept looking at her. "The bruises and swelling around the ribs are more than a day old. So are these marks on your back-"_

_Nanaba hopped off the bed. "Please. I must go."_

_The teacher stood up as well. "Who does this to you?"_

_She tried to walk away, but the teacher caught her upper arm. And just like her scream, she couldn't stop the flinch that marred her face._

_The man noticed and let go of her immediately. "You have a bruise there, too?"_

_Nanaba rubbed on her arm ruefully. Because he kept looking at her inquiringly, she finally said, "Maybe."_

_He stared at her, as though trying to gauge her. She let him watch her steadily._

" _You won't tell me who did all this and you won't let me tell your father."_

" _Those boys did all this."_

" _Even the month-old bruises?"_

_She kept mum._

_The man sighed, then wrote something on a slip of paper. "Get this salve from the apothecary, it minimises pain and reduces scarring. We don't want any blemishes on that pretty face, do we."_

_Nanaba stared at him._

_He shrugged. "Not that I care. But people seem to, so go, get that salve. It's not expensive." He paused. "What I do care about is how unprepared you are for your life."_

_A spark of anger flashed within her. "I'm being groomed to be perfect for my life."_

" _I'm sure," the man drawled. "But I'm not talking about grooming. I'm talking about training."_

" _What-"_

" _Self-defence. Basic hand-to-hand combat. You think you can stay an extra hour at school everyday? I'll teach you."_

_Nanaba could not believe her ears. "B-but…"_

" _It's either this or I tell the grownups. All of them."_

_No. She could not have that happen. Resigned, she nodded. The normally expressionless man looked relieved. As to her, she felt as if a huge weight had been removed from her chest._

_Self-defence. Fighting. She would make sure she was perfect at it._

* * *

"I learnt sparring at school," Nanaba told the squad leader. "A retired military man was our physical activities teacher."

"Excellent! That explains your performance in hand-to-hand combat. Exceptional scores."

"I had a good teacher."

"Evidently. Those skills may not be necessary for killing Titans, but they can be-"

"Useful," Nanaba cut in. "Yes, I know."

"Come in handy before, eh?"

Nanaba shrugged again. "Saved my life."

Hange stared at her.

* * *

_She was twelve years old._

_She was doing a geography assignment that involved lots of complicated drawings, something she was never very good at. She was so focused on her work that she only heard the heavy footsteps when they were outside her door. This was unexpected. He had not come to see her for months, not after the school-fight, after which she had made sure he had no cause to berate her._

_She slipped out of her chair into an automatic curtsey, just as the door burst open and her father strode in._

" _Get up, already," he growled, and Nanaba straightened to her full height, which was quite tall now. She did not look like a child anymore._

_The Duke had been looking more and more dishevelled over the past weeks. Tonight he looked smarter -he had shaved, and he was wearing his velvet suit. But his hair had escaped his untidy ponytail, and a strong smell of alcohol pervaded his environs. He was holding a heavy crystal bottle half-filled with amber liquid. She noticed it, and recognised it to be an expensive liquor that was manufactured in Wall Maria._

" _What do I hear," he began as he always did, but with a voice so slurred he sounded like a different man, "of the Earl of Darcy's son getting engaged?"_

_She bit her lip. She should have known this was coming. "Yes, to the Duchess Oblonsky."_

" _That prick Lobov was right then," he snarled and staggered over to her chair and slumped into it._

_Nanaba had nothing to say. She discreetly distanced herself from the desk and waited for the inevitable outburst._

" _The Duchess Oblonsi-kky," he drawled. "I was wondering why the name sounded familiar."_

_She felt her heart begin to pound, her hands curl into fists. "She was the girl in the… incident at school. The one the boys were picking on."_

" _So you're telling me," he breathed, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, "that fat slut managed to land herself an Earl's heir while you little miss pretty are still not betrothed?"_

 _Calm. Poise._ _Perfection._

" _I have never met the Earl's son."_

" _And whose fault is that?!"_

_She stayed silent._

_The implication was obvious, and the Duke's face darkened with anger._

" _Insolent little bitch. Get the papers."_

_She glanced at his waist belt. There was no coiled whip._

" _I said, get the damn papers!"_

_She moved, let herself perform the next few actions from muscle memory. In her head she chanted, "A few more weeks, only a few weeks left…"_

_The newspaper mat was ready, the robe slipped off. She turned to the bedpost and held onto it, eyes screwed shut in anticipation of the pain._

_She waited for what seemed like an eternity, beginning to shiver in the cold. Then, unexpectedly, she felt a cool smooth hand on her behind._

_Her heart stuttered, then skipped a beat, her stomach felt hollow and her throat was suddenly dry._

_The hand caressed her, then slipped around her waist and held her firmly. The other hand followed in a similar movement, pausing only to squeeze her behind before encircling her waist._

_This was new… And she did not like it._

_Her heart was now racing so fast she was afraid it would burst. She felt waves of panic and fear rising in her, but she didn't know why._

_The hands pulled her roughly until she was standing in front of her grand, full-length mirror. What she saw nearly made her whimper with fright but she could not understand why._

_Her slim, white, form faced her, large white hands pressing down on her abdomen. Behind her lurked the tall, dark, ominous frame of her father, his eyes focused on the reflection of her naked body._

_Her_ _father._

_He moved his right hand up and cupped her newly-grown breast._

" _You look just like your mother," he whispered, his warm, drunken breath rolling over her neck. He stroked. "She was a fucking beauty." He squeezed. "The most beautiful debutante that season." His own untidy ponytail slipped onto her shoulder, mingling with her long locks._

_It was the same hair._

" _She was so gorgeous there were men who cried when she was mine." Another squeeze. The other hand was now roving up and down her side. Firm. Insistent._

" _...Like a porcelain doll. God, I enjoyed breaking her in." The other hand found her other breast and now they were both kneading, pressing, stroking her._

_Her breaths were coming in fast gasps. She was so shocked and so terrified that she had lost her voice. Her eyes were dry; no tears were forthcoming. She had just not been ready for this._

_She had been groomed all her life but not for_ _this._

" _She was an annoying cunt, though," her father continued about her mother as he nuzzled her neck. "Had all these_ _ideas_ _. Even named you after some Oriental ancestor of hers." He rubbed her nipples until they hardened painfully, making the first tears prick in her eyes. "Now I have to keep disappointing prospective suitors when I say you're Oriental in name and nothing more. Stupid bitch."_

_Her mouth finally managed to form a word, but no sound was forthcoming. "S-stop," she wheezed._

_Her father seemed not to hear. "Fucking gorgeous," he murmured. One of his hands continued to grope her chest. The other slipped down, pressing into her belly button, thumb circling it for a good few seconds, before slipping further down._

_Bells started to ring in her ears. A jolt of energy seemed to zip through her as her father's cold fingers went lower, and months of training suddenly kicked into action._

_She grasped his wrist and twisted it, not letting go when she sprained it, ignored her father's cry of pain and twisted his arm and slipped under his grasp._

_She didn't wait to cry or scream or beat him up, all of which she wanted to do. She ran._

_Freedom, however, was fleeting. She had barely run a few steps when she felt a sharp pain in her head and she fell backwards on the floor, her father's fist tangled in her long, streaming hair._

" _Insolent little cunt!" He snarled, and dropped to his knees, crawling over her and pinning her arms down. She had begun to scream and flail, but he was strong, he was too strong; his knees were holding hers bunched together, his hands were pinning her arms down. She screamed harder, someone,_ _someone_ _had to come, someone had to stop this._

" _Shut up, will you," he grinned savagely. "I'm not gonna do anything. Wouldn't want to sell damaged goods to the suitor, eh?"_

_Rage burned through her, her vision turned red and suddenly, she was very aware of everything in her vicinity. Including the sparkle of a crystal bottle in the corner of her vision. It was the liquor, which she had knocked over, but not broken, when she had tried to run._

_Her left hand spasmed in an effort to grasp it, and succeeded in her first try. She curled her fingers tightly around the neck of the bottle and glared up at her father's mad, laughing dark eyes._

" _I am not yours to sell!" She spat at him and swung with all her might._

_There was a flash of amber and crystal, then the bottle connected with her father's head and shattered into a thousand, deadly little pieces. He slumped and dropped sideways and with a terrific effort of strength she didn't know she had, she pushed him off her._

_She could not leave the room too soon; in her hurry, she kneeled on a jagged edge of crystal that cut into her flesh. Ignoring the pain, ignoring the fury, ignoring the all-consuming urge to stab him with the broken bottle, she ran._

_She ran straight to the garret, where she had hidden the boy's clothes under her mother's old dresses. She ran to the coal-cellar fireplace, where she had hidden the hunting knife her teacher had given her. She ran out of the house, out of the quarter, all the way to an inn where she dressed her wound again and cut off all her disgusting silvery hair. She ran and kept running for weeks, until the 98th Squad of the Training Corps began that year._

* * *

"Tell me, Nanaba," Hange said quietly. "Why did you join the Survey Corps? With your skills, and I think, your instinct for survival, you would not have chosen such a dangerous option."

Nanaba hesitated. "I have friends here. A lot of my squadmates have signed up to the Survey Corps this year."

* * *

_She is sixteen. The Survey Corps is having a night out in town. She smiles at her friends, but doesn't feel compelled to join in the revelry._

_Two other people sit at the table with her, amusingly enough, the tallest and shortest man in the Corps. Neither of them are saying much, and that suits Nanaba just fine._

_Mike Zacharias, humanity's second best, gets redder with every drink he downs. Levi, humanity's best soldier, sips glass after glass of ale with no change in colour or demeanor._

_Mike's sobriety is deceptive. At the end of an hour of silent drinking, he turns to her and mumbles, "Why aren't you dancing, Nanaba?"_

_She doesn't look away from the lines and the couples swirling on the dance floor, very few of them in rhythm. "I don't dance," she says, not rudely, but not with any amount of friendliness._

" _I don't believe that," Mike says, leaning forward. "You use dance forms when you're using the gear. I've seen it." Nanaba looks at him, surprised. Even she hasn't realised that the dance poses drilled into her as a child could manifest in her fighting skills._

_Somewhere, Miss Gregory will have deemed her job well done._

" _I was taught," she shrugs. "But I was never very good."_

" _I don't believe that."_

" _I don't want to dance, Mike," she says with finality in her tone. Mike understands immediately. "Sorry," he mumbles. "Don't want to force you. Didn't mean to -I mean…"_

_He looks so flustered even Levi notices. "Cut him some slack. He's clearly drunk."_

_She herself was going to console Mike, but the statement freezes her up. "I don't believe drunkenness can excuse anything. Anything." Her voice turns low, dangerous. Levi's eyes widen a little._

" _She's right," Mike says abruptly. "I'm sorry, Nanaba. Please forgive me for my conduct." He stands up and walks away, only a slight lilt to his step proof of his non-sober state._

_Nanaba turns and glares at Levi. He raises an eyebrow. Then he sighs. "Fine. I was wrong. I'll leave." He stands up too, and walks to the bar. Nanaba notices that he orders a whiskey this time._

_She is left alone, and somehow feeling bad for being right. But, unexpectedly, the chair next to her screeches, and Mike is sitting down next to her with two fresh glasses of ale._

" _I'm not here to goad you," he says, with a visible effort at calmness. "But I_ _am_ _drunk, and turns out I'm a talkative piece of shit when I'm drunk. So I would like to just talk with you, if you don't mind."_

_She feels a smile quirk her lips. "I don't mind."_

" _If I'm obnoxious again, you can slap me."_

_Her smile widens. "Gladly."_

_Mike laughs, the first time she has heard him laugh. They talk inconsequentially for a while, and in the midst of a hilarious anecdote, Nanaba looks up and sees Levi watching them from the bar._

_She crooks her finger at him. Curiosity seems to get the better of him, and he slips off his stool and approaches._

" _Don't be a creep," she tells him. "Come listen to Mike's story about the murderous goat."_

" _I've heard it before," he says, but joins them anyway._

_Soon Levi, of all people, is sharing funny stories, his expression unwavering, which only makes Nanaba and Mike laugh harder. She is in the middle of an embarrassing snort-fest, when a voice booms next to her, "Nanabaaaaaa!"_

_It is Gelgar._

" _What do you want, boat-head?"_

_Gelgar leans over her but doesn't touch her. He knows from his training days that she was not to be touched unless she wanted to be. "Sing for us, won't you?"_

_She turns red, while Mike turns to her. "You can sing?"_

_She can't lie her way out. Gelgar is belting praises about her singing until she stops him. "Alright, enough, Gelgar, no-one's_ _that_ _perfect. I'll sing."_

 _She wants to start small, with a simple ballad that everyone can sing along with. But since everyone_ _does_ _sing along, her singing becomes a huge hit, and before she knows it, she keeps singing for the rest of the night, laughing at her comrades' antics. In the end, she even gets Levi to smile, and that is when she understands what it means to have a night out with friends._

* * *

"Friends. It is understandable that your bonds are strong, but…" Hange paused and continued resolutely, "I can see that you're too clever, too aware of the world to be optimistic enough to just follow friends."

Hange stood up and faced the window. "You understand, don't you, how cruel this world can be?"

Nanaba gazed out of the window too. "I do."

* * *

_She is nineteen._

" _Nanaba, calm down," Gelgar murmurs as she marches down the corridors. "I am calm," she seethes, "Leave."_

_Gelgar hesitates, but the look on her face seems to say enough. "Don't do something stupid," he warns her and walks away._

_She knocks on the familiar door and bursts in before the voice could call out. Hange sits behind her usual desk, but does not look surprised._

" _Are you serious?" Nanaba thunders. She knows she lied to Gelgar. She is furious._

" _Nanaba-"_

" _You're giving me Stuart's squad? I didn't ask for a promotion."_

" _Nanaba-"_

" _I thought we agreed, Hange! No politics."_

" _You know Stuart is being sent away."_

" _I don't know anything!" She snaps. "There has been no official announcement. There have been rumours, but it's too monstrous to believe…"_

_Hange is looking down at her papers. She almost looks ashamed. "What the hell is going on, Hange?"_

_Hange doesn't look up. "Central is planning a Reclamation Expedition."_

" _A what?" She doesn't understand. She refuses to._

" _Reclamation Expedition," Hange repeats, her voice hollow. "They're enlisting civilians as well. They want to reclaim Wall Maria."_

_Nanaba stares. "Reclaim how?"_

" _They say large numbers will help. They will go to Shiganshina and seal the holes that the Colossal and the Armoured-"_

" _Seal them? While the Titans applaud them or something?"_

" _It has been decreed, Nanaba," Hange sounds so tired her last syllable comes out as a sob. "Sixty percent of the Survey Corps has been enlisted. Thirty of the Garrison and ten-"_

" _Sixty_ _? What the hell are you saying?"_

_Hange slams her palms on the table. "I'm saying we can't feed all the refugees. There just isn't enough. I'm saying hundreds of thousands of people are being sent out to their doom and the Survey Corps has to lead them!"_

_Nanaba collapses onto a chair in shock. It can't be._ _It can't be._

" _And Stuart is going…"_

_There is silence in the room. Neither of them talks, neither of them even looks at the other._

_Both ashamed._

" _Why are we not going?" Nanaba whispers._

_Hange sighs and takes off her glasses. "Erwin. He had to fight for us. You, me, Levi, Mike…"_

" _Who else?"_

" _Gelgar, Moblit, Ness-"_

" _I can't do it," she says abruptly. "You -you're giving me a dead man's squad."_

 _Hange smirks humourlessly. "That_ _is_ _how it works here."_

" _It's not the same." Nanaba shakes her head._

" _Why?"_

" _Because he's still alive."_

_Hange sighs again. "You have to, Nanaba."_

" _Why me?" She cries. "Give it to someone else!"_

_Hange's head snaps up. "Who else is there?" Nanaba is stunned by the emotion in her Squad Leader's voice. "Mike got promoted when Erwin got made Commander. Levi's getting his own squad. Gelgar is getting Metzger's squad. Lynne is getting-"_

" _You're sending Metzger?" Nanaba cuts in, incredulous. "He's a veteran! He's been with us for years, he's…"_

" _Old," Hange finishes for her. "So are most of the civilians."_

_Nanaba is horrified. "Hange, this -this is… genocide."_

" _Yes," Hange rubs her eyes. "But tell me, what can we do?_ _What can we do? "_

" _We can go ourselves," Nanaba says softly._

_Hange stands up so suddenly Nanaba jumps. "No. Absolutely not. You will not volunteer."_

" _If all of us elites sign up together…" But Hange's look is enough. Nanaba isn't stupid. She knows that in a plan this hopeless, no amount of elite soldiers could help. Sealing each hole would take months. All with Titans flowing in and swarming around. There is just no way this expedition will succeed._

" _How do we get past this?" Nanaba says finally._

" _We eat, because we can," Hange mutters. "And shore up our strength. And get out there and get rid of them all. All the Titans."_

_And because this is Hange Zoë saying this, Nanaba knows she means it._

* * *

"The world _is_ cruel," Nanaba said gently. "But what can we expect? Nothing is perfect, after all. Why should the world be?"

"Perfection would be nice," Hange chuckled darkly.

"No," Nanaba said. "You don't mean that."

Hange looked at her. "No," she admitted. "I don't."

* * *

_Nanaba gets the news when they are in Trost, awaiting the trial of the Titan kid. She still has her doubts about keeping such a dangerous asset within the Survey Corps, but, of course, it is not her place to say. The trial is important, but can be missed. She tells the messenger that she will follow him back in a couple hours. She talks to Erwin and packs for a night, then leaves._

_They stop at an inn where she had earned her keep by being a scullery maid for a month. The people recognise her, and let her stay for free, refusing any sort of payment._

_She reaches her childhood home in the morning. The receiving hall is filled with people, mostly lawyers and merchants and creditors. She walks past them without them noticing, and goes straight to the family rooms upstairs._

_The upholstery has not been changed; it has faded even more over the years. All the guest rooms she walks past are covered in dust. She pauses at her old room, and watches the ghosts come to life._

_There is still a stack of newspapers under the desk. There are her dusty schoolbooks on the shelf behind it. The silk sheets are from when she last made her bed. She walks in, right on the dark stain on the carpet, and opens her wardrobe. Old dresses, frayed and covered in dust, are still hanging there. She fingers the velvet one she wore when the boys beat her up._

_She sighs, closes the door, and walks out. She is never coming back._

_She walks past more empty, dusty rooms, before reaching the one at the end of the corridor. The door is open, and through it she can see a man stretched out under the faded bedcovers. A physician and two nurses hover around him, while a man sits on a couch in the other end of the room. She recognises him to be her father's steward._

_She strides in and they all look up. "Excuse me, ma'am, this is a private room…"_

" _I'm family."_

_The invalid stirs at her voice. "Look who's back," he murmurs, his voice an echo of his stronger days. She goes to stand next to the bed and looks down at him._

" _Miss me?" He whispers. He has lost several teeth and is almost bald._

" _You're pathetic," she tells him calmly._

_He wheezes hard and she realises he's laughing. "Is this how a daughter greets her father?"_

" _In this case, yes."_

_He looks at her properly. "You look like a frigging boy," he mutters._

_She shrugs. "The hair was a liability."_

" _You could have earned well if you'd sold it to a wig-maker."_

" _I did."_

" _Did you, now? Glad to see some of my teachings stayed with you."_

 _She leans forward casually, flips out a knife from her boot and places it against his neck. "You taught me nothing._ _Nothing_ _. Everything I am today is what you never wanted me to learn." The physician and nurses protest at the knife, but she ignores them._

" _Kill me, then. I'm a dead man anyway."_

_She raises her eyebrows. "And end your suffering? Why should I?" She steps back, withdrawing the knife._

" _Why are you here, then, traitorous little bitch?"_

_One of the nurses gasps._

_Nanaba shrugs. "To make you suffer more, of course." She turns to the steward. "How are you, Henrik?"_

_The man stands up and bows to her. "Very well, Lady Nanaba. Though not so well as you look."_

" _I'm not a Lady anymore." Her father grunts from the bed, clearly trying to join the conversation, but she ignores him._

" _Ah, but you are, technically, my lady."_

" _True." She turns back to the monster in the bed. "But not for long."_

_The Duke makes a small noise of protest. She ignores him again, and proceeds to systematically ruin the rest of his life._

_First she talks to the physician, asks him for an accurate description of the state of her father's health, and an exact estimate of the money owed to him and the nurses. Then she talks to the steward, who has brought along a lawyer in the meantime. Bill after bill of debt is discussed. Then they talk about assets. Land, the house, silk, jewels._

_She dismisses the two nurses. The physician can come once a day, for a week at the most. There won't be any need for him after that. He leaves for the day._

_Then the lawyer draws up the document, as she dictates._

_The day her father dies, the remaining family jewels will be sold, and the biggest, most urgent debts settled first. Then the rooms will all be systematically stripped, their furnishings sold, paying off the rest of the debts. Should there remain more, the sale of the house and the estate shall cover that and the servants' legacies. The funeral will be paid for from the money specifically received by the sale of the objects in her room. The remaining money will be donated to the Survey Corps._

" _What is this?" Her father shrieks at one point. She doesn't answer him, and the lawyer and the steward keep their eyes trained on the papers in front of them. He continues to yell at them spasmodically, but they pay him no heed._

_She looks it over, and gives her nod of approval. The lawyer carefully rolls the document up and tucks it into his coat._

" _Henrik," her father rasps, rage making his face turn mad purple. "Explain!"_

_Nanaba stalls him. "That was my last will and testament, orders to dispose of all my worldly belongings. The day you die, I will submit my family name to the Survey Corps, officially giving up my civilian rights and title. I am taking this document with me, which I will sign, also on the day you die. This is my official statement that I am renouncing my worldly titled possessions in order to lead a soldier's life. I will be the sole owner of the family's assets at that point, and I will dispose of them as I see fit. Your family is finished. There will no more be a Lady Nanaba Hol-"_

_Her father never lets her finish. He bursts into a garbled tirade of slurs and insults, all in a voice so weak and raspy she hardly understands him. When he shows no sign of stopping, she simply talks over him, and dismisses the other two men._

_His voice dies away when it's just the two of them left. "Murderer," he rasps. She doesn't respond, she looks at him for one long moment, commits his pathetic image to her memory, then turns around to leave._

" _Looks like I've groomed you well," he shouts as she walks to the door. "You're a chip off the old block, Nanaba. You will always be daddy's little girl."_

_Then she makes her mistake: she turns around to look at him, and her last image of him is erased. Her father, the Duke, is leering at her, his yellow teeth glinting in a dark grin. He is laughing at her._

_Tears spring into her eyes and she slams the door shut behind her furiously._

* * *

"But we digress," Hange said briskly and sat down again. "Tell me. Why did you join the Survey Corps?"

Nanaba looked at the floor again.

Why _did_ she join? Did she even know herself?

* * *

_She is twenty-two years old._

_Gelgar is falling. Gelgar is going to die. She can see his stupid gelled boat hairstyle glint in the moonlight. She cannot let him die._

_With a yell, she calls for him and takes down the Titan that has got hold of him. As she lands on the curved wall, she sees him fall into a gap in the tower._

_He's safe._

_She presses the triggers, but nothing happens. She looks down. Dammit. She's out of gas._

_Then she looks up._

_Titans surround her, all fleshy and leering. The next few seconds are a blur. She tries to run. She tries to swing out of the way. But something grasps onto her wire and pulls her down._

_Long hair is a liability, she thinks suddenly. But her hair isn't long…_

_When the pain erupts in her right knee, she looks down and screams when she sees a glass shard embedded there. A corner of it is still dripping amber liquid._

_Then she hears laughter over her screaming. The Duke is back. The Duke is leering at her with his yellow teeth. He is pressing, pulling on her limbs until they ache. He is cutting her up with more shards of the liquor bottle. The stench of his blood (_ _her blood_ _) is filling her nostrils. His whip is searing everywhere on her body now. His cold grasp is everywhere._

" _Daddy's little girl," his voice rumbles around her._

" _Father, please!" She begs._

_Then he eats her._

* * *

"I -I think…" Her voice petered away, and she tried again. "I was raised to be a perfect woman. It was my father's biggest dream." Hange simply listened. "When I ran away from home, I promised myself I would try to be perfect on my own terms. And to me, being a soldier of humanity's hope, carrying out that duty, is the best way to attain perfection, as near to it as possible, anyway." She paused. "I want to be perfect in every way I was groomed not to be. I can do that in the Survey Corps."

There was silence. Nanaba wondered if she divulged too much, wondered what the Squad Leader would think. She wondered if the rumours would spread about her father.

But Hange simply leaned forward with a warm smile. "Welcome to the Survey Corps, Nanaba. It's a pleasure to meet you."

And for the first time that day, Nanaba smiled, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hokay, where do I even begin? I have been wanting to write Nanaba's story ever since that horrible episode in Season 2. And so I tried, and this story is the best I can do at this point, I think. I hope I did justice to her beautiful character.
> 
> Some notes/thoughts:
> 
> 1) Nanaba's internal monologue in the beginning states that Hange is in the top three of the SC. These would be Mike, Erwin and Hange, in that order. Levi, as per my timeline, has just been recruited, and the main conversation in this story happens in the same year Levi is recruited, but after the incidents of Kuinaki Sentaku (ACWNR), so his true worth to humanity is not quite known yet.
> 
> 2) As for my timeline, I have been plagued by the idea that Nanaba is much older in her final episode. However, to be able to relate her story to the main storyline of SnK, and in interest of all the info available, I have made Nanaba as young as she is.
> 
> 3) Also, the Reclamation Expedition. The images we are shown regarding this have a lot of the Survey Corps insignia. However, we also see Military police helping the people enlist. I like to think Erwin personally convinced Central to deploy these numbers. I'm convinced the original plan was to only send out the Survey Corps with the civilians.
> 
> 4) References galore from Kuinaki Sentaku, also from the Before the Fall manga! Don't worry, not knowing the references does not change your experience of the story at all.
> 
> 5) The Duke is dying in the end of cancer. I don't even know or care which type, take your pick. Maybe even all of them, that disgusting piece of shit.
> 
> 6) Nanaba is described everywhere as a calm, patient woman. Her only break in character was towards the end, when she was dying. This was my biggest gap to bridge, and pretty much the entire fic was written in an effort to reconcile dark Nanaba with the Nanaba we all know and love. Hope it worked!
> 
> 7) Also, my newest ship is Mikenana because omg how cute are they! I may write some other stuff with these two, but for now I have only this horrible piece of tragedy and angst. Sorry about that.
> 
> Lastly, but most importantly : That one horrific scene from when her father sexually assaults her was one of the hardest things I had to write. Not only because the act described was so horrible, also because I had to make sure that I did it right. In all my years of writing fanfiction, I have never written smut, and contend myself with writing consensual, soft-core romance (save implications of rape in another fic, but even that never went this far).
> 
> With experience like that, I doubted being able to write the difficult scene that I had imagined, but I had to try it anyway. Basically, I want to assure you that _I want to in NO way romanticize or humanize that disturbing act._ If it comes across as such in any way, please let me know, and I will change or remove that section entirely. This is an issue that I have not taken lightly, and I would never intentionally offend or belittle the horrible experiences of millions of victims across the world.
> 
> Let me say it again - **Please, if you feel this is distasteful, or offensive in any way, let me know, and I will take the scene down.**
> 
> Well, that's all I can think of, I guess. Please comment, your appreciation really keeps me going!


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